Memorial
by Lunamaria
Summary: When Walt Disney died, he took a little bit of us with him. – Daisy, four
1. Mickey Mouse

I of V. Mickey Mouse

Mickey was born from the mind of Walt Disney, and in time they began a great friendship. When Walt and Mickey first began, all they had was a dream – and empty pockets. But Walt believed in his dreams, believed that all he needed was courage to pursue them. Mickey believed the same, and from them came a work of love early on – Disneyland, a place Walt and Mickey had built together. It was their signature, a collaboration of dreams, and hope, faith and trust; and, yes, even pixie dust. They two watched their land of imagination, a land that dreamed fantasy, today _and_ tomorrow, a land where impossibilities were possible. Walt and Mickey both thought it was fun to do the impossible, where parents and children could reach understanding.

Walt was a wonderful father, thinks Mickey, as he steps away from the memorial procession. Riku meets him halfway, no expression in his teal eyes as he takes Mickey's hand. The King finds it hard not to cry, so he just lets the tears come. Minnie hangs back in the crowd, her face buried in Daisy's feathers. They all lost something that went with Walt.

"Wanna go?" Riku asks, head motioning towards the cloud of black mourners. "It's not my scene, you know, too much black – you OK?"

The Mouse King nods, "I only hope that we don't lose sight of one thing – that it was all started by Walt Disney."


	2. Goofy Goof

I of V. Goofy Goof

Walt Disney was not his creator, but that does not lessen his pain. He was not there in the precise beginning, but does that matter either, should that make his tears any less heavy? No–that little fact does not make Goofy any less devastated, nor does it anybody else. From the start, Walt was there, all ideas and dreams. Goofy remembers the stories Walt would tell about a magical place, a bridge for parents and children. It wasn't until Goofy had his own son that he realized how precious a place that _could_ be–and, then, it _was_. They two, father and son, Walt and Mickey, made it against all the conventions set out against them. And Goofy was there to see it all.

Goofy glances around the memorial, at Mickey and Minnie and Donald, all of them, and sighs out into the frigid air. It is cold in more than one way and such a tragedy – Goofy retracts that last thought. For even if Walt is gone from them in physical way, his imprint in them is everlasting, hiding there in their hearts and minds. Goofy eyes the sky, calls to God and then cries. A part of him will be gone forever.

He can only cry, cry, cry as he takes one last peek at the tombstone of Walt, other mourners still sprinkled among his gravesite.

"Oh, Goofy," says a clad-in-black Kairi, small tears painting her pink cheeks. She didn't know him, but she sees the love they all have for him; that is enough to be sad for. "Come here."

Kairi spreads her arms around Goofy, embracing the lanky dog who sees no need to hide his tears from her. He takes one careful hand and pats her titian hair before stepping away and finding his son.

Precious indeed.


	3. Donald Duck

III of V. Donald Duck

The world can be a wonderful place, kind and beautiful. Young though he was, he needed proof. Donald refused to place his faith in such a world without it. It was a mess, loud and chaotic. And so filled with possibility. He could not see that initially and not on his own. He was created by another and rebelled early on, unhappy with his lot and envious of others. He saw the world as the disorder he believed it was and wanted no part of it. The few things Donald believed worth his efforts were always unattainable and, oh, how he despised that happy little mouse. Bridge, parents, children, happiness, Walt, Walt, Walt, Walt. Phooey.

Donald said it would never happen, said it could never happen. So naturally he ate those words and, somewhere along the lines and dreams, swallowed his pride and began to love Walt Disney. He seemed to test the boundaries of everything Donald knew to be truth and did it with love and patience. He didn't throw his kingdom back into the face of the quick-tempered duck. Donald's opinion of the mouse even changed; jealous though he still was, Mickey was Walt's son and an unexpectedly wonderful friend. The duck changed and, for the first time, noticed the sun and even a pretty young duck named Daisy.

Walt was a magician, weaving lives and friendship together. He discovered doors that Donald never noticed and left them open for others to follow him. So Donald did just that. It wasn't difficult, for he was never too far ahead. He always waited.

His sorrow is great as he stands back, leaning lightly against his friend Sora. He watches his nephews, love and uncles pay their teary respects. Donald cannot do it, cannot leave his goodbye and let it die into the frosty wind. That is too much for the duck, who has grown and grown to love this magician. It's so cold and he just cannot, just cannot let it all end this way. There must be something he can do… _something_. But then the slowly rising sun catches on the name scrawled across the stone and Donald knows that, no, there is nothing. Donald is not as great a magician as Walt, his magic cannot change what has happened or anything that will. Walt, dearest, Walt is sleeping and Donald loses his composure.

Sora lets his keyblade hit the grass as Donald calls to be held. Donald cries out so loud, his blubbering words incomprehensible. But it is not as if they matter, they are only pleas to God and half-composed denials. Daisy finds Sora in the sea of black holding Donald and releases a trembling sigh, for she can barely contain her own sorrow. She notes again that Donald is not in black. He refused to accept that this magical man could not save himself. He was angry, so angry, but now he is just sad. Sad that he was abandoned, sad that so much potential is gone. And just so sad to see the last door opened.

As Daisy cuts through the crowd to find the crying duo, she feels the stir of Donald's magic and lets out one sad, breathy laugh.

The magician is now wearing black.


	4. Daisy Duck

IV of V. Daisy Duck

She knew him as her father.

Perhaps he did not create her, perhaps he did not piece her together and speak her name first and perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. It is none of those things that matters at all. When she would look at him, eyes alight, she only saw the things he did do and what he was there to be apart of. She only saw the father that he was, not the father that he wasn't. Daisy didn't like seeing glasses as half full or as half empty. Truly, from Walt she had learned that the amount in the glass was irrelevant. As long as there was anything in the glass at all, why did it matter how much of it there was? Walt saw the possibilities, the endless, infinite possibilities, even when only one drop sat at the bottom of his lonely glass. That one drop contained his hopes, fears and love. In it he saw Daisy and Mickey and Donald and all of his other children. He could not let them down, he told Daisy with determined eyes, they were his family. He was a father. He was their father and he was the contents of their glass.

As she sees the freshly disturbed dirt and the name on the stone, Daisy tries to be strong. For Minnie who cries against her, for Mickey catching her eye, for Goofy who holds his son and, most importantly, for Donald. For her dearest who sobs into Sora, pitiable wails heard across the land. It is then that she almost loses her carefully held composure, for she is moved by the sight of him there. By the proud and magical duck who is so devastated, for the king who hangs back with his friend and for Goofy and Minnie and all the others who will always remember how very cold it was as the sun began to rise over the kingdom. Her cheeks are still dry as she releases her friend, lifts her skirts and walks away from the procession.

When she reaches them, Sora takes her hand without a thought. Daisy eyes the key bearer with thanks, for the tears dotting his boyish cheeks, the heave of his shoulders and his hold on them both. And then a funny thing happens, a funny little acceptance that closes every last door and flattens her poise: Donald's magic swirls the air and his blue wizard's robes become black. As black as anything Daisy ever saw.

Her release first comes out as a dry laugh and then as desperate and endless tears tumbling down her face. She and Donald cry together in implacable wails, holding Sora who, also, just cannot seem to stop sobbing.

Even if the last drop is gone, the glass still remains. And, heavens, their tears are so great they could fill any glass in any kingdom.

Perhaps that is why she can't seem to stop from crying.


End file.
